


Vallaslin

by Whisper



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 00:31:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3708597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whisper/pseuds/Whisper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair realizes that his fellow Warden isn't like the other Dalish he's seen...she's got no tattoos!</p><p>First (of hopefully more) Dragon Age musings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vallaslin

He doesn’t put two and two together until after Fauna has killed Tamlen –or rather, what was left of Tamlen.

“Fauna, I wanted to ask you,” he says quietly, sitting beside her at the fire as dusk turns darker.

She glances sideways at him, still intent on sorting her arrows like she tends to after raids on Hurlock parties. “Mm?”

“You don’t have… tattoos like the other Dalish.”

“Yes I do,” she responds, before seizing up as if struck.

Alistair blanches, “What… no, I meant… your face.”

Fauna turns to him, setting her quiver aside. A faint blush has crept into her cheeks, and Alistair notices that her feline eyes are dilated.  “No, I do not have any facial tattoos... _vallaslin_.”

He practices the Dalish word on his tongue; he's heard it before, but he's not sure what it means. Alistair studies her, unsure how to proceed. “ _So, there are tattoos. Elsewhere…”_ he thinks, and he struggles to keep his gaze from dipping to the column of her neck, or lower, where her golden skin spreads out over shoulders left uncovered by her simple blouse.

“Um, well, I was wondering why, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She searches his face for a moment before turning back to the fire. Slowly, she pulls the pins from her hair and lets her auburn locks fall down over her shoulders. This is only the third time he’s seen her with her hair down, not that Alistair would ever admit he’s been keeping count.

“I chose not to. It is rare, but occasionally my people make that choice.”

“Why?”

She glances over at him, a smile dancing on her slim lips. “I have a very low tolerance for pain.”

Alistair laughs, glancing at the bandage around her exposed foot. Fire bombs had burned through the soles of her boots only four days prior, and Wynne had only been able to do so much since the spirit healer’s condition had started to worsen. Fauna had moaned and whined all the way back to camp, adopting human curses for the first time.

“But…” Alistair starts, hoping to try his luck without getting burned, “you have tattoos...vallaslin... in other places?”

Fauna seems to consider this, and murmurs something Dalish under her breath before reaching for a pant leg. Slowly, she rolls the linen up over her calf, careful not to dislodge Wynne’s wrappings.

Alistair leans closer, beginning to make out the gentle swirls of a filigree crossing back and forth over her shin. She stops her unrolling at her knee, where the rays of a pale ochre sunburst jet out over the bone.

“For my 15th begetting day,” she says. “It was the brightest day of the summer, and my gods-father suggested I capture the sun permanently.”

Alistair reaches out, laying two fingers on her shin to trace the graceful markings. “It’s beautiful, so whimsical,”

Fauna smiles, and releases the cloth to hide the tattoo. "The blood writing symbolizes our religious devotion and our study of the ways of our people. Perhaps my lack of any visible ones represents my shortcomings on that front," Fauna scoffs at herself. "When we come of age, our Keeper crafts them."

"Was it...frowned upon? For you to not undergo it?"

She shakes her head, "I was an orphan, already an odd duck. But I couldn't escape it completely," and Fauna turns her back to him, lifting up her hair and revealing three six-pointed stars just beneath the apex of her hairline. "My family," she whispers, a dose of emotion haunting her words, "reunited". 

He’s surprised he’s never noticed it before, but guesses that either the collar of her armor or her Warden pendant or some combination of both kept it from view. Tenderly, he touches the stars as he touched her leg. Despite the fire nearby, she shivers gently, and he pulls his hand away.

“Are there more?” he asks, now genuinely curious.

She gives him her devilish look, one eyebrow cocked and the corner of her mouth turning up. “Perhaps, and perhaps one day you will see them.”

Alistair’s cheeks warm, and Fauna, against her usual reservation, reaches up to lay a palm against one.  
“Perhaps you should have _this_ tattooed on _you_ permanently.”

“What?” he parries, quirking his own eyebrow, and he raises a hand to catch hers. “This? No, it’s but a trick of the fire.”

Fauna giggles, and Alistair is so taken aback by the gentleness of the sound that his mouth parts audibly. The elf stills, and for just a moment all that either can hear is the crackle of the fire beside them. Slowly, Fauna leans in, and as Alistair’s hold on her hand tightens, she thinks to herself that maybe she’d like to show him all of the marks across her body.

When his lips slide over hers, she sighs, and to herself she promises “ _one day”._

 


End file.
